


Between The Darkness And The Light

by adeclanfan



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeclanfan/pseuds/adeclanfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Ashley wasn't conceived in 1889, and was instead conceived in 1898 shortly after Helen is thrown back in time without a prayer of returning to her time? One love is ending and another is just beginning. Light Helen/John, Dark Helen/James</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for my Mistress Shar, aka Shamie4 on twitter. She gave me the prompts. And a smack on the ass and told me to run with it. So, here it is.
> 
> Warning for ssome possible nonconsensual sex, violence in part 2.

“Damn it. Damn it to hell...” Helen mumbled to herself as sat warming by the fire in the private sitting room of the suite James annexed in the beginnings of what would soon be the London Sanctuary. To those who didn't know her, she was just watching the fire consume its logs and lost in private thoughts. What she was actually doing was reliving the dark drama she knew was being acted out on the other side of the Sanctuary in naive, younger Helen's room tonight. 

Her blonde self had become a like sibling to her, someone she loved and wanted to take care of, even if only in secret. They could never meet face to face, she knew, but it didn't stop Helen from wanting desperately to storm into her old rooms and hurt John tonight for tormenting her. 

Holding herself in check was killing something inside her, to know John was in her bed, and how this night would change everything for her. 

It wasn't hard to stay away from the Sanctuary most days, Helen had many things of her own to occupy her, and James was devoting a portion of his time to setting up an alias for her. They decided it would be easiest for her to assume the name Helen Bancroft, it had been her mother's maiden name, so assuming it was simple fairly simple. Building a life was time consuming with the opening accounts at banks, hiring solicitors and clothiers across London, but avoiding ones Helen regularly used. All of the necessities a Victorian woman needed to live in this age had to be created from thin air and without James' connections the task would have been impossible. 

Still, she couldn't keep stealing from Helen's closet and trying to return the items before her younger self noticed. Off the rack clothes and shoes were expensive and still required time consuming fitting appointments. Ordering custom made clothing took even more time. 

James entered the study and took off his coat, hanging it on the back of the high backed chair opposite hers. He went to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “I didn't know you were going to be here tonight, or I wouldn't have stayed so long at the club.” 

Helen mustered a small smile for him. “You've been working hard. You deserve some time personal time. I'm quite capable of starting a fire and helping myself to your brandy.”

James laughed, “I can see that. Is there a reason for the visit, has something happened?”

“No reason,” Helen lied. “Just wanted some company on a cold night.”

James perched on the arm of the chair, studying her. “Well, I do believe that is the first blatant lie you've told me since we met.”

Helen didn't have the energy to be angry with him for calling her on the lie. “I can't talk about it.”

“Why are you here, Helen?”

“I'm trapped in the past and I can't get home, remember?” There was so much bitterness in her tone, even she felt the bite of it.

James sighed, “Tonight. Why here in my study on this night? Something wrong with your townhouse?”

“It's fine. Quite nice. I appreciate everything you've done for me, James. Honestly, I just couldn't stand to be alone tonight.”

“Is the date significant?”

Helen gave him a guarded nod. “Yes.”

“Birthday? Anniversary?”

“Of a sort,” Helen sighed. “I'd rather not talk about it.”

“And yet, you're here. I can almost feel the waves of tension radiating from you...” James set his glass on a table and moved to kneel before Helen's booted feet and voluminous skirts. “It might help you to unburden yourself once in a while. The weight of the world appears to be crushing you.”

Helen surprised them both by bursting into miserable tears. “God, I've missed you,” she sobbed, then covered her face with her free hand, embarrassed.

“Ah.” James said simply. He took her glass from her and put it with his. Then, he got to his feet and pulled her up with him. Her cheek rested perfectly on his shoulder as he pulled her to him, held her and let her cry. “I've been expecting this... grieving your lost life, denial, anger, classic signs of mourning. All are natural emotional states one would expect to go through in your position.”

“I...”

“Hush now. Cry it out. You of all people, with your vast medical skill should know the benefit of lancing a wound before it can fester and spread to poison the whole system.” His hands caressed Helen's back, rubbing in soothing circles. 

His permission made the tears fall freely. “God... God, I can't do this. This helpless feeling, I can't bear it...”

James didn't hush her this time, instead he let her ramble incoherently in his ear, taking the bits of information into his keen intellect. 

“How can I stand idly by and let myself make these mistakes all over again? I want to change things; I want to make better choices.”

“If you could change your actions, without repercussions to the time-line, what would you do, Helen?”

Helen thought about it for a long time. There were so many things she would do differently, but would she change this night? Would she storm upstairs and stop her former self from conceiving her daughter? Would she wish Ashley away? No. Would she hurt John the way he hurt her? Yes. 

“I would tell John I don't love him anymore. That I never want to see him again. Get what I need from him and send him away forever, with a broken nose and sore testicles.”

James pulled back and peered at her face, “John Druitt, again. Is he here, now? With you?” He let her go and turned to go after John, but Helen gripped his arm, hard. 

“You can't interfere!”

“The hell I can't!” James scowled. “If he is going to make a habit of popping in and upsetting you, he is going to get an earful from me. Or a kick in the backside.”

“I don't know if you confront him or not, James, but I need him to stay just a bit longer tonight.”

“The devil!” James was not happy, and he rounded on her, “What could you possibly want from that man after all he has put you through?”

Helen clamped her lips shut, stubbornly refusing.

“Tell me, or by God, I will go deal with him!”

Helen sighed, her entire body quivering, “My daughter, damn you.”

“Dear God in Heaven, Helen, you can't be serious?” He ran fingers through his hair, a clear sign of agitation. “He's impregnating you? And we're standing here letting it happen? Have you completely lost your ability to think rationally? A single mother, or a bastard child for that matter, is not socially acceptable at this time. You will lose your patients, your practice, your reputation...”

“Not if you remove the embryo and preserve it, freeze it.”

James goggled at her, his face caught between stunned disbelief and outright horror. “Remove the child from your womb? Are you mad, woman? It will die.”

“Not if you and I, and Nikola, devise a container to keep it safely frozen.”

“I take it from the certainty in your voice that this has been done before. We just have to recreate it from your memory.”

Helen nodded. She hadn't expected James to give in so easily, and she was right, “So, what's to stop me from dealing with John once this daughter of yours is conceived?”

“You are welcome to him. In my current mood, I'd be lucky not to kill him.” And she meant it. If there were any other way to keep Ashley, she would be done with John forever. Why couldn't Ashley have been James' child? He would have made a strict task master, but a good, loving father. 

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about this auspicious day?”

Helen decided to tell him, but she turned back to stare into the flames as she said, “This is the night I knew I didn't love him any longer as I once had. My sweet, thoughtful, gentle John was dead. And I was falling in love with someone else.”

James nodded, then it hit him. Her words registered in his detective's mind, and he turned her back to him, searched her face. “You loved me?”

Helen met his dark gaze, “I never stopped.” She was proud that her voice held steady as she said it and there were no more humiliating tears. 

“Dear God, you still love me, even after 113 years...” James searched her face in astonishment. 

Rolling her eyes, Helen sniffed, “Don't let it go to your head.”

“Oh, my head is fine.” James obviously didn't understand her turn of phrase, but it didn't matter. “It's just aching a bit. I'm going to need something more than brandy.” He went to the sideboard and poured them each a stronger libation. 

Helen took the single malt scotch and sipped it gratefully. “I didn't come here to dump all of this into your lap, James. I swear I didn't.”

"No, you wouldn't... stubbornly independent woman that you are, but you should. I want to help you, Helen. I care deeply for you, both impulsive, irrational versions of you." He tugged her arm and she was soon sitting on his lap in his favorite ugly, uncomfortable chair. 

They sat that way for a long time, sipping scotch and watching the fire crackle in the hearth. Helen's head fell back to rest on his shoulder, and she was strangely content. 

“I find the idea of his hands on her... disturbing and sickening.” 

Helen turned her head to look a him, “She's not thinking about him; She's not thinking about anything right now, except getting him to leave.”

“Dear God. What does he want? Why won't he leave her be?!” There was so much pain in James' tone, John had been dear to him, too. 

“John's furious the Ton is talking about the two of you living in this big place alone, unchaperoned.” She sighed, “And he thinks we're lovers already.” 

“The old biddies will find something else to talk about in a week, that's the nature of gossips.” It was James' turn to sigh. “The broken engagement was enough of a strain on Helen's reputation. We couldn't very well come out and post a letter to the newspaper saying her fiancee was a murdering madman, could we?”

“No.” 

“Does this break her spirit?”

“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” 

James snorted, “Friedrich Nietzsche was obviously never raped by a misogynistic killer who used to be someone you loved.”

“It won't be as bad as rape. The damage will be mostly emotional, and psychological, but it will make her appreciate just how gentle a lover you are when you do finally get around to making love to her.”

James barked a laugh, “Am I behind schedule?”

“Yes, quite. Much longer and I fear female hysteria may set in.”

“Dear Lord, we can't have that.” He got a look of pure mischief on his face and Helen knew what he would ask next, dear sweet helpful James. “What about you? Am I going to be contending with two hysterical females for the rest of my existence?”

Helen returned his wicked grin with one of her own, “I am quite capable of dealing with hysteria on my own.”

“Dearest Helen, didn't we just get done having this conversation. I am always willing to lend a hand.”

Helen smirked. “It's not your hand that is required.” She pressed a light kiss to his lips, tasting whiskey and James for the first time in over a decade. 

=-=-=-=-=-=

For a long time, they lay tangled together in each others arms in James' bed, with sweat cooling on their naked bodies. The fire was dying in the grate, and neither wanted to break the spell to get up and add another log. Helen finally broke down and pulled the layers of blankets up over them. 

James kissed her forehead and lips when she returned to reclaim her comfortable spooning position. “Do you have the necessary skill to remove an embryo from the womb? I know of no one who could perform such a delicate medical procedure. No one I would trust with Helen's life...”

Helen turned over to face him. “You are completely mad for me,” she smirked. “Madly in love.” 

James rolled his eyes at her teasing, “You can't avoid the question by changing the subject, love.”

“I'm still on the subject, the subject is me. And the answer to you question is yes. I have the necessary skill and surgical experience to do it.” Helen sighed, “I should have known the idea wasn't yours. I really was quite naive, wasn't I?”

“I find the naivete to be quite appealing.” James rolled Helen and slid easily back inside her. He groaned at how tight she still was, “Mercy, you are an enchantress. I can't seem to get enough of you.”

“It's a good thing there are two of me, then, don't you agree?”

“Oh, absolutely.” 

 

 


	2. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: rape/non-con, graphic sex, violence.

The only warning Helen had before the strong hands gripped her by the throat was a quick blinding flash in her darkened bedroom. A hand covered her mouth, deliberately cutting off her startled cry before she could alert anyone that might be nearby. Not that there was much hope of someone wandering by, she and James took suites high in the opposite wings of the Sanctuary in an attempt maintain some sense of decorum and propriety. 

Helen fervently regretted that choice, now. She could die here in her room and James wouldn't know until she missed an appointment and he came looking for her.

John eased his grip on her windpipe and Helen gasped, desperate for her next breath. She could just make out his features in the dim glow from the hearth logs. He looked even worse than he had just a few days before, if that were indeed possible; when he held a straight razor blade against her throat. The memory of that night had her body wracking with shudders of pure terror; the thin fabric of her night dress was inadequate protection for what she knew John was capable of. 

“Hello, my dear. I'm sorry to pop in without sending over a calling card, but I knew this was the only way dear James would let me in to see you.” Something in the way he mentioned James sent Helen's brain into a panic. If he decided to take his rage out on James, he was quite capable of harming him and feeling no remorse. 

This man was a killer; that was fact she knew first hand. She had seen him kill with her own eyes, knew he felt nothing for the poor creature he'd slain. John's choice in victims showed just how much he loathed and despised all women, not just unfortunate whores who died under his knife. Prostitutes were merely easiest to kill without being caught, targets of convenient opportunity, and less than nothing in his twisted mind. 

“Wha...what do you want, John?” Helen struggled to speak, terrified beyond reason. 

There was something chilling in his eyes as he smiled down at her; as if the blue of the iris was the coldest ice their world was capable of creating. “I've just been to my club. Do you know what the honorable gentlemen were discussing tonight over their cards?” 

Helen could guess; she knew the hypocritical, unforgiving ways of the Ton. Though their broken engagement had left John's reputation only slightly dented, she had already accepted hers was destroyed. She was on the shelf, destined to be an old maid. Worse, Helen was in disgrace because she broke their engagement. She would never find a man of suitable social standing to even give her a first glance, let alone be seen as courting her, for fear her taint would rub off on him. 

Helen shook her head slightly. “No...” 

“Well, let me tell you, then, my dear. They are up in arms that Gregory Magnus, eccentric and world traveler, would allow his spinster daughter to move into a place with a confirmed bachelor like James Watson. They say he's practically given his permission for James to bed you at his leisure by not insisting on a chaperone, or at very least a ladies' maid.”

Helen felt her face flush; not with humiliation, but anger. She pushed John's chest, trying to sit up and he moved back a bit to allow it. She glared at him, fury burning the fear away. “We work here together, helping poor unfortunates. There are dozens and dozens of rooms in our Sanctuary. Most of them stand empty. I chose this suite for myself because it was far removed from James and the others.”

He smirked, “Yes, most of them are currently empty, and conveniently there is only a cook and a few housemaids and a single footman to avoid during your trips back and forth to his bedroom.” 

It was ironic that he was the one to take her virginity, and now he was here accusing her of being James' whore. “Is that what you really believe?” Helen asked, incredulous. “That I hop from one man's bed to another? That easily?”

The look John gave her said he very much believed exactly that. “All woman are whores.” He stroked her cheek and she flinched. He didn't like her reaction to his touch, and his hand slashed out in a stinging backhanded slap that echoed through her room. He bellowed, “All woman are whores!”

Helen held her burning cheek and willed herself not to cry, but John was far from through with her. “You use your looks and your charm to get a man interested in you, then you give him a tiny taste of Heaven... just a taste... before you snatch it from him and turn him away.” John sneered at her, “How long was it after you left me? How long did you wait before you turned your smiles on James? A week? Perhaps two?” 

“You're wrong, John. Be reasonable. James and I are friends, nothing more.”

“Friends?” John scoffed. “A man is never friends with a woman. A man is always thinking of a way to get a woman into his bed, don't you know that?”

Helen had a few seconds to frantically look for a way out of the bed, before John was on her again, fueled with jealousy and whiskey. He pushed her back down to the pillows and used his body's weight to hold her. “Does James know that you like to play the bad girl?” To illustrate his point, John pinned her wrists in one hand and flipped Helen over onto her belly. Once, he had her where he wanted her, his free hand gathered up her night dress until her buttocks were exposed to the cool air of her bedroom. John's hand came down on her vulnerable backside with resounding cracks. Helen sobbed and pleaded for him to stop, but he didn't listen. “Does James redden your perfect little arse? Does he know you enjoy it? You do so enjoy perverse little bedroom games.” 

There was a time when Helen had thoroughly enjoyed acting out a spanking fantasy with John. He woke something in her she hadn't even realized was there and taught her about the wonders of sex. Helen was mortified to feel her body responding to the familiarity of his hands on her bare flesh. 

The spanking stopped once her backside was stinging painfully and Helen gasped for breath between sobs. One of John's hands was still clamped painfully around her wrists, and his other hand quested between her splayed legs. She cried out as fingertips probed the folds of her sex. “Stop, John, please stop...” Helen begged. She squirmed under his ministrations, the touches sending jolts of unwelcome pleasure. Damn her traitorous body, and damn John for knowing her so well. 

“You're mouth is saying stop, but your body is saying something else, my dear. Your sex is wet.” He gave her sensitive bundle of nerves a sharp pinch, her yelp echoing in the room. “Would James love you if he knew you like for a man to hold you down and do scandalous things to you? Or would he turn you out, call you a freak?

“Can he make your body respond the way I can? Does he make you climax screaming like a shipyard doxy?” John released her with a shove and unfastened the placket of his trousers. He pulled his cock out and dragged Helen around to face him. She looked at his erection with a mixture of surprise and terror. “Do you let James take your mouth?”

“No!” Helen gasped, appalled by John crudeness. 

John seemed pleased by the vehemence of her denial. “Suck me, Helen. Service me with your lying whore's mouth...” When she didn't move, he gripped her long blonde hair and yanked cruelly until she took him into her mouth. “I know you want to, Helen. It was one of your favorite activities back in the day.” 

His hands eased enough to allow her to bob her head. It took a surprising amount of effort not to bite him, and as she considered it, he gripped her chin, “Ah ah ah... No teeth, or I'll make you regret it.” Helen gagged on him, tears of humiliation streaming down her flushed cheeks. 

It was a mercy when John grew bored with her pitiful efforts and shoved her away, clearly frustrated, but not any less aroused. She fell backward, thighs spread wide. His eyes drifted down to her exposed sex, and his expression changed from malice to raw hunger, dark need. It felt wrong after all they had been through, after all he had done, for her heart to still pound from a lustful, heated glance.

He pounced on her before she could draw a breath to scream, and Helen tried in vain to shove him off, but his long, lean body pinned her to the feather stuffed mattress. He was heavier than she remembered and Helen struggled for breath, “John, listen to me. Stop. Don't do this... I swear, I'll never forgive you if you rape me tonight. This will be the end for us, truly, and it will be your fault, not mine.”

John scoffed, “Rape?” He pushed the tip of his cock into her. “Can one rape the willing?”

Helen pushed at his broad shoulders. “I don't want to do this.”

“James isn't as endowed as I am,” John smirked, “you're so nice and tight. And wet...” He pushed into her further and gave an experimental thrust, nothing too hard. Helen made a low sound at the invasion, and they both knew it wasn't pain she was feeling. “Go on, now, my dear and tell me again to stop or to stay.” He pulled out and pushed in a second time, all the way until her body couldn't take any more of him. “I'm waiting...” 

When Helen stubbornly refused to answer, not wanting to admit he was right, John clucked his tongue, “Very well, then. I shall go.” He withdrew from her and started to sit up. “I won't be accused of raping you...”

“Stay,” Helen whispered, shame coloring her cheeks. 

John's eyes narrowed. “What was that, Helen? I don't believe I heard you.”

“Bastard,” Helen hissed at him. “I won't say it, again. Stay or go to the very Devil.”

John laughed, resuming his previous position on top of her. “Helen, my dear, I am the very Devil.” 

There were no more words after that, only the raw sounds of rutting. Helen grudgingly surrendered and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, not caring about anything beyond getting the nearly ten years of pent up need satisfied one final time. She had no idea what John was getting out of it, other than a chance to utterly humiliate her and prove to them both she was the whore he claimed. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood from the cut John made earlier when he slapped her. John continued to pound into her until he spent his seed with a hoarse grunt.

For her sake, Helen was lucky she had found her own peak moments before he did, because John hadn't given her pleasure a moment's consideration. She would be sore for a few days, she knew, from the rough handling and years of celibate living. Dear God, her mind screamed in frustration, if she was to be punished for sleeping with James, why couldn't it have at least been true? Why did James have to be such a gentleman? Helen burst into tears, sobbing miserably at the irony of it all. 

John looked down at her, and Helen honestly didn't know which was more terrible; the love and compassion she saw in his eyes at her obvious emotional distress, or the way the light of that love winked out, replaced by something cruel; the killer inside John regaining control. He climbed out of the bed and fastened his trousers. 

John dealt their love a final death blow by tossing a handful of coppers from his pocket onto the bedside table before he disappeared in a flash of light. Whores got paid for their services, respectable women did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =-=-=-=-=-=
> 
> Thank you to MatildaSwan for the beta, and Lisa for the cheerleading and hand holding. I've never done a story that came so close to rape. This is very dark. I hope you liked it.


	3. Epilogue - Shattered

James found Helen sobbing on a bench in their lovely little garden. It wasn't the first time this week she come up missing, so he'd checked here first when she didn't meet him at the appointed dinner hour. He had a feeling he knew what was on her mind. Damn John for putting her through so much pain she didn't deserve. 

At the older Helen's suggestion, James was working with Nikola Tesla and Helen late into the night to complete the small capsule that would keep her unborn child protected until she chose to carry her. The younger Helen was keeping to herself these days; still so emotionally devastated by John's actions they were lucky to get her out of her room for more than a few hours at a time. 

“Helen, my dear, please tell me what's wrong. How can I help if I don't know why you're so upset?” James sat beside her on the bench, pulling her against his shoulder. The gesture was something the older Helen took great comfort in. This younger Helen barely noticed. 

“I'm going to have a child.” Helen said very quietly. “John's child.”

James called on his long years of detective work to convincingly sound surprised, “Dear God! When did this come about? I thought John was out of your life after the incident with the straight razor?” 

Helen turned and looked at him. “Do you want me to leave? I can go away. I've already started packing.”

“Leave? What the Devil would you do that for?”

Her lower lip trembled, “I don't want your reputation to suffer for my mistakes.” She attempts at maintaining composure failed miserably and she started to cry. It was the most heartbreaking sound James ever heard, and brought tears to his own eyes. “John was right, I am no better than a whore.”

“Bloody hell! John called you a whore? The gall of that man!” James sadness turned to fury in a heartbeat. “You are not going anywhere, do you hear me?” He took her by the upper arms and forced her to look at him. “I don't care about society dames, or social standings, I care about you, Helen. I would never turn you out of your own home in your hour of greatest need.” 

“I can't have a baby, James. The child will suffer its whole life for my indiscretion.”

“Not if I marry you, and we claim the child is mine.”

Helen gaped at him. “Marry me? Why on Earth would you do that? I'm disgraced!” 

“I told you I don't care about any of that. I love you!” James was sure the look of surprise on Helen's face mirrored his own. He hadn't planned to reveal his feelings and intentions this bluntly, but her misery was killing him. It was unfair for her to bear the brunt of all the condemnation when John was responsible. 

“Why?” 

“What do you mean why?” James asked, annoyed. “You are the most stubborn, headstrong, infuriatingly independent woman I've ever met. How can I not be madly in love with you?” 

Helen huffed, “I don't know what to do.” 

James saw an opening into a discussion of older Helen's plan and decided to take it. “What if we could postpone your pregnancy until you are ready to have a child?”

“That's not possible.” 

“What if I knew of a surgeon who could perform a procedure that removes the embryo and freezes it? I believe the technique is being studied in the Far East. You know they are very advanced in the study of the human body.” James willed Helen to believe his lie. 

“I've never read anything about removing a child from the womb. It sounds cruel.”

The last thing Helen needed was more guilt on her conscience, and James took her hands in his and kissed them. “Whatever John said to you, you are no whore, Helen. You have suffered and suffered at his hands, more than any person should ever have to suffer. You deserve to be happy, to find love and make a family if you want one. He's tried to take all of that from you, but you mustn't let him win.” 

“Do you really believe it's possible to save the embryo?”

James nodded, “I do.”

“If you believe it, then I shall defer to you.” 

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close; his lips brushed her temple. “Let's go back inside, my dear. It's too cold out here for your delicate condition.”

“Oh heavens... Am I going to have you coddling me, now?” 

James laughed, “Haven't I always?”

The End


End file.
